Sanity Cry
by geegi
Summary: Life is full of obstacles, and you have to look inside yourself to find that one thing to overcome those obstacles that live in evil's lair. Please read and review.


**Sanity Cry**

Thank you for reading my book, and I sincerely hope you enjoy it. Life is full of obstacles, and you have to look inside yourself to find that one thing to overcome those obstacles.

_The scars remind us that the past is real and gives us hope for the future. Sometimes they come back…_

Many good years have passed since my childhood. A long cold journey it has been, and now I have a family of my own. My two daughters, Mary and Abigail, were now over the age of seven and had many adventures as their days passed. I would watch from my kitchen window into the neatly trimmed lawn, watching them play in the yard. They chased butterflies and watched ants scurry across the thick soil to their place of security. They were ordinary children, and quite frankly, they reminded me nothing of my childhood. Not to say that I was not ordinary, for I was, just in a different way. They resembled me with their brunette hair and dark eyes, but on the inside, they were nothing like me. They were their own people, completely different than the me I remember. I remember my childhood quite well. My father was a hard-working man who would never let a day pass without thinking of tomorrow. He never forgot about his priorities and never let them slip out of his mind. He was my idle, my model, of whom I would only like to resemble as I aged. But the thing I remember most of him was his vivid imagination.

Every night before I would rest my head upon my pillow, he would walk in, and tell me a bedtime story. These were not just ordinary stories, they were horror stories. Frightful, scary stories that would give me nightmares. But I did not care. These stories were my life. I would fill every day with mystery and delight as I lived in my own little world. It was all my own, and a place where no one but me could enter. But this place was no ordinary place where most little girls would dream to go. No, this was a place of terror and horror. A place where dragons became real, and the knights rode upon their snowy white horses, their armor shining against the bright sun. A place where I was no princess, but a knight also. I rode off into the distance to slay the dragon, to fight the monsters, to save the kingdom. I was no royalty, nor was I the fairest in the land. I was an ordinary girl, whose dream was to triumph.

But my own little world was not only a place of kings and dragons, but a place of thieves. A place of robbers and villains. A place where people would be buried alive, and be eaten by their kinsmen. A place where all the things that terrified people, came true. These were my adventures, my dreams and my life. But the things that were in my dreams were never things that I suspected would come true. They were too evil, to cunning for a human to comprehend. Or were they?

Every night, after my father would tell me a story, I would ask the same question.

"Daddy, those things could never happen could they?"

And every time I asked this question, he would reply with the same answer. "Of course not, it's only your imagination that brings them to life. Now close your eyes and go to sleep."

And sure enough not one of those stories came true. After the years I began to think less and less of these stories, for I was maturing and knew that those things could never possibly happen. They were only in my imagination and soon, I began to loose that too. But it still was a part of me, a real part of me.

I soon went to school and found out that other children did not think the way I did. They did not live in their imaginations, but dreamed of greater things. Things like money, love, and joy. But me, I still kept that small fragment of my world. A place where I could disappear when loneliness filled my heart, and a place where I could go to express my great triumphs. It was my real home.

As I grew older, I became fascinated with mystery books, and my dream was to be the greatest detective in the world. To move to a great city and be like Sherlock Holmes, unafraid of anything. But the more and more I loved detective work, the more and more people looked down upon me. "Its just silly work," they would say when they watched me read a mystery novel. And after a while, these words began to sink into my head, and I began to believe that what they said was true. I no longer was the mysterious girl who loved horror, but I became a cheerleader, and was given the reputation of the popular. a girl who was beautiful, and envied by everyone in class. Everyone longed to be my friend, and those lucky few who were my friends never really knew the real me. I was like a cave, beautiful on the outside, but on the inside lay horror and bones.

This stayed the same for a many years, that is until a new family moved into our neighborhood. They were an ordinary family, who I would never really know. The two parents, David and Margaret, had two daughters and a son. His name was Chad. He had dark brown hair, and mysterious eyes. And it seemed that every time I saw him, his eyes told a story. A story of sorrow and terror. But I never really paid attention to this boy. To me, he was nobody. He had no friends, and seemed to live in his own little world, like I did many years before, but now it was too faint in my mind to remember. But there was something about him that I could never get out of my mind. And this I was never able to figure out.

Everyday, when walking home from school I would pass his house. It was not run down, but yet not the nicest house in the neighborhood. It had a mysterious feeling to it when one passed by its white washed fence. A trickle of fear was sent down my spine on this particular day, which rarely happened. I did not know what was going to happen, but surly, this was no ordinary feeling. My brown hair blew in the wind as it came up behind me, and I stood there, unable to move, for suspicion crept into my thoughts.

Finally I willed myself to continue, but the fear of someone watching came upon me. And what I did not know was that someone indeed was watching me from his bedside window. His solemn gaze entered my thoughts, yet I knew nothing about them. I continued walking until I reached my door and entered the kitchen. My mother sat there up to the table, having a very hearty time talking to someone on the phone. I went over to the pantry and pulled out a glass for a nice cold cup of water right as she hung up the phone. With a smile of reassurance she told me the news.

"Honey, put on some decent clothes, we're going to visit the neighbors."

I stood there, trying to regain my thoughts. These people were not ordinary, and to me, there was no point in ever meeting them.

"But why mom? What difference will it make if I meet them?"

She sat there for a few seconds, just smiling. I could not tell what she was thinking, nor did I want to know. You see, my mother was a little different than most mothers. She was a genius. She did not seem like one to others though, for she did not openly use her talent, only with me. The one thing that interested me most, was when good advice burst into her mind, she would twitch her thin glasses, and smile in the way she always did. It was then that I knew I would feel wrong about what I had said.

"Brooke listen, what will you learn if all you do is sit inside your lonely chamber of dreams? What good will be accomplished if one only hopes for tomorrow? The courageous may fail, but the apprehensive will never succeed." And with that she exited the kitchen, leaving me to think about what she had said, and think is exactly what I did. For the next few minutes, I sat there, thinking about my life, and the words ejected from my mother's mouth. Was she right? Was I wasting my life away in the loneliness of my hopeful dreams? Those words stayed with me, and yet I was still confused of what those words exactly meant.

The hour came, and I tread slowly to the neighbor's house. I felt better about the whole situation, but I was still afraid, even though I wished myself not to be. I kept telling myself that I was high and mighty, but that lingering shadow corrupted my thoughts. I was not scared of meeting the family, but more of meeting him. His mysterious eyes never seemed to leave my thoughts, always following my every move. I was agitated that this new lad had so much control over my life, though I barely knew him. I was powerful, yet controlled by a weakling that I knew nothing about.

We walked up to their front door, only to be welcomed by a hearty family, him of which was not present. I was relieved momentarily, but then I saw his dark eyes staring at me from his place of security on the stairwell. He was as old as me it seemed, yet his behavior was like that of a child. He sat there quietly, not moving, not making a sound. I looked away, hoping to draw his attention elsewhere, but his gaze stayed.

We ate supper, which consisted of pork chops and potatoes. But this meal did not satisfy my growing hunger. His gaze was still upon me, and it felt as if my conscience had been awakened after these many years. The food settled blankly in my stomach, and it began to growl with discontent. I thought I would go insane if it persisted.

Dinner ended, and the parents mingled into the living room for a hearty talk, leaving Chad and I to ourselves. I could not find the words to say. What did he want to hear? I did not want to sound foolish around him, but then, my reputation was not on the line. I would never be seeing this boy again.

Finally, he sat up straight in his chair and murmured two words to me. "Come on."

So surprised by the words ejected from his mouth, I just sat there. His voice was so low and distant, it was barely noticeable.

He stood, and so did I, unable to comprehend where we were going. Up the flight of stairs we trod, finally reaching a very large wood door. There, on the door was a keypad. It was not technically new, but efficient. He quickly typed in his code, and a small click was heard. He turned the knob and let me in.

I wanted to ask what it was for, but I could not bring myself to speak. So, I followed him silently into his room. It was ordinary but the walls were night black, as well as the carpet and his bedding. It was dark, and I could not make out what was his bed, compared to his dressers. The curtains were closed but as soon as I entered, he walked over to them, and light suddenly filled the room.

"I'm Chad," he finally said. He seemed shy if you had never spoken a word to him, but his voice was mighty, unafraid.

"And you are Brooke." He continued without letting me say a word. I replied yes, and he continued. "I see you walk home from school everyday accompanied by friends, but you always seem lonely…"

I did not know what to say. Of course it was true, but how did he know?

We talked for a while longer, and at last, I heard my mother's voice call from downstairs. Hearing this, I was not anxious to leave. Talking to Chad seemed to bring back memories, things of the past that were lost to me. He was mysterious, yet I longed to talk to him again. We said goodbye, and I left, still wondering what had gone on. It all seemed like a dream, for I'd had no intention of speaking to him. But after the days passed, things began to come together piece by piece. I would see him at school, finally noticing his familiar face, and consequently, his locker was fairly close to mine. We would talk, yet barely, and I would forever wish he had talked more.

More and more, I began to visit his house and him to mine, to talk, discuss the school assignments, or the happenings of the day. But he never spoke of _his_ life. He never spoke of his problems, only asked of mine. He knew me like the back of his smooth hand, but didn't seem too sure about his own. But I never dared to ask him, things were not meant to happen in that way.

One day, on a cold September afternoon, things began to change. The sky was clear, yet crisp, and the violent wind blew the leaves vigorously across the road. As I returned home from school, things happened as they usually did. I would come home, and receive a call from him to come over, but today seemed different, and I could not tell why.

He called, yet his voice was sorrowful, with also a taste of anxiety, as if withholding a dark secret. I quickly agreed to come, and hurried over to his house. His parents were not yet home, but this was the usual, and as I got there, he invited me into his room. He greeted me kindly and pulled out our school project we had began working on together. So surprised, and yet still confused of the urgency, I agreed to help without question. Many hours passed, and soon his mother was calling for him to come down and eat supper. It was then that I knew my presence was not yet noticed.

As I walked down into the kitchen behind Chad, the strong aroma of freshly cooked spaghetti sifted into my nostrils, and I was greatly aroused by the wide eyes I received by his family. Their eyes glanced back and forth from him to me, as if asking a question.

"O," he replied, "Brooke just came over to work on our project…" Their eyes died, all except their mother. She just starred at me, as if the hand of God had struck her dead. All through dinner she continued to keep her gaze, constantly asking if I cared for something else to eat. Intending not to be rude, I denied, and helped myself to the spaghetti. It was different, and did not appease my stomach. It did not taste normal, but fake, of a different kind. But I let it pass, and shoved it down into the empty burrow of my stomach.

It was from that moment on that things began to become real. We went back up to Chad's room, but the feeling was not the same. Something was different as we entered his blackened room, and his eyes held more doubt than ever before. Seeing this, I questioned him, hoping that a mistake would not be made. It was then that he broke down and gave in, letting everything spill out.

"Brooke, I know that you might not understand, but you must try to believe…" I nodded and he continued. "Two years ago, I lived in a whole different world than you live in. I've never told you this, but I moved from London." His sigh was so depressing, I knew the outcome could not be good. "We, my family and I, lived with our grandmother who was fairly wealthy. She provided all our needs, and she acted as a mother to me. My parents greatly feared that city though, and intended to leave, but our grandmother persisted. She was a good woman, and that I still believe even to this day, even though others may not. But she is no more… she is dead." I gasped unknowingly, unaware of where this conversation was heading.

"How; why?" I questioned.

"That is the disturbing part." He began. "Because my grandmother denied my parents request to leave the city, unwanted action was taken. Without my knowing, for I would have made change occur, my parents not only stole her money and belongings, but committed a crime so great, it is unforgivable. Burying someone alive, Brooke, is too unreal, for even me to believe, yet I had to accept reality whether I liked it or not." I just sat there, unable to think. What was this place? I could not think, for many memories began to rush back into my head. Memories of my past that only happened in my imagination. But he was not finished, and what I did not know, was that something worse was to come. "I am sorry that I had to tell you this, but you needed to know. My parents are evil Brooke, money and evil deeds has corrupted them, and now, not even I can trust them."

We sat there, letting his words sink into my head, preparing me for what was to come. He continued.

"After moving, and finding out the reality of what happened, I set off back to London, determined to find and save her. But after long days of searching and finally finding her, it came to my disappointment that I was too late, and the darkness of evil was shone to me. As I opened her grave, a creature immensely unlike my grandmother lay there. Although I knew this was her, her features did not show so. She was turned ajar, her legs bent as if struggling. Her fingers stunned me the most and have scarred my memory ever since. They were ragged, torn into shreds, no nail remained, and blood splattered the roof of the coffin. There were crevices there, unimaginable to ones mind. Too much pain for a woman her age to go through, it was torture. I was too late, and as I began to walk away, a deep feeling of disorder and hatred towards my parents grew inside the depths of my heart. I could not longer feel the same about them, it would be different."

My heart was trembling at the words that my ears received, and tears began to fill my eyes. I was afraid. These thoughts had not filled my mind since I was young, and now they were returning to haunt me. It was unimaginable the sight he must have seen, and I wondered how he could go on. It was a mystery to me, and I suddenly gained much respect for this boy. He was far stronger than I could ever be.

"There is one more thing…," he said quickly. "I am sure that you noticed my mother at dinner tonight."

"Yes…" my voice trailed off.

"There is a logical explanation for that behavior. As I said before, my parents are corrupt, and I do not believe what they do. If I could, I would move out instantly, but it is not that easy. I noticed that dinner tonight didn't satisfy your stomach. It didn't mine either. That is because it was not animal meat."

I suddenly began to feel the food churn in my stomach. The little I had eaten began to swirl, and I wanted it to stop but it would not be possible.

"If it was not animal…it was…" I could not finish the sentence.

"Yes." He did not want to say it either.

For at least an hour, we sat there in silence, trying to regain our thoughts. I was speechless, and I knew he was too. He had never told that story to anyone, and it was a shock for him as well. Our friendship became much closer that night, but never again did I come over to his house. Everyday after school I would welcome him in, and we would spend many hours discussing our daily activities.

After that night, my life changed forever. I finally realized that I no longer had to live in the mystery of my dreams, for I knew now that those things could really come true. I had once thought that man was too ignorant to plan such evil, but I never thought that evil would look me straight in the eye without my knowing. I have become more aware, for I understand the realness of evil like I never had before, but I also have become more aware of others. My mother was right. What good will one accomplish if they only sit in the loneliness of their dreams. Every one has a story to tell, be it good or bad. And what I learned is that the real evil is not letting them share.

A year later, Chad did something unremarkably righteous, not for his parents sake, but for his. After many nights of pondering, he began to realize the reality of this evil, and decided to put a stop to it. Not only the evil in his mind, but the evil that surrounded his daily routine. Authorities were contacted, and Chad received a good home, away from the terror of this world. I now could be assured that he was happy.

The brisk wind blew outside my kitchen window. Mary and Abigail still played joyfully, their lives free from the terror I experienced long ago. But I felt lucky. It felt as if I had accomplished something for making my dreams come to life. I realized that my father was only protecting me from the horror he knew I would face, and I am still greatly appreciative of that. Living in ones imaginary world is one thing, but for those once imaginary thoughts to become real, that experience was quite another.

Even after the years, I have met many people and heard their stories as well, but meeting Chad had changed my life forever, and to this day, I could not picture my life without him.


End file.
